


Cold, cold, cold

by willssoulace



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, F/M, I'm Sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-27
Updated: 2019-10-27
Packaged: 2021-01-04 13:54:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21198743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/willssoulace/pseuds/willssoulace
Summary: Post ACOWARNesta is dealing with her trauma, but doesn't really know how to cope."You said you didn't have any regret." she reminded him "Well, I have. I have so many regrets. I keep ruining everything good I have in my life. Because I can't stand to have that, I can't stand to be happy."





	Cold, cold, cold

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first time I write something about this Fandom, but I really wanted to explore more of Nesta's depression. This is very short, though, but I think it's a start. It's basically introspective angst with a little bit of Nesta/Cassian. I hope you enjoy it!

Nesta had been silent for the whole evening. It's not like she actually had something to say, anyway. Lately talking felt like a torture, too.

She knew nobody expected a word from her. 

She was a simple spectator. 

And watching what was surrounding her was all she did. 

The table of the sitting room was full of empty bottles. She had almost killed Feyre when she had appeared with all those bottles of alcoholics. She felt like it was all part of some cruel test. 

Did her sisters think she would have gotten drunk right there in front of their little friends? Right in front of-

Her sisters laughed at some of the million stories Rhysand was telling, making some part of her burning with jealousy for not being the one who made them feel so happy.

Happy.

Cauldron, part of her felt jealous of that feeling too.

She honestly didn't remember when was the last time she had laughed like that. Maybe it had never happened.

She let her eyes scrutinize the people around her. It had always startled and fascinated her how at ease they looked, simply enjoying each other's company. 

Nesta mentally scowled.

Feyre had invited her to join them, and she had immediately refused.

But then Elain had asked her, with her sweet eyes full of hope and fear of rejection. And she could have rejected her, really.

She wanted to. 

She loved her sister more than anything else in the world but despite that, she regretted coming there that night.

After falling on every single detail in the room, her gaze finally focused on the one person she had been avoiding for the entirety of the evening. 

Cassian was laughing at something Mor had whispered in his ears, letting his head fall backward and making the room, and her  _ heart _ , vibrate with the force of his laughter.

She felt nauseous.

Some distant voice in her mind, maybe her good sense, was screaming at her to get out of there.

_ Go back to your apartment, Nesta _ it said  _ it will be better for everyone. _

It was true, she knew it was. Then why was she still there?

Nesta stood up, the movement so sudden the chair she was sitting on fell. The laughter stopped, replaced by an astonished silence. Everyone was now staring at her. 

"I must leave" was all she said, already heading for the door. 

_ Go away and never come back.  _

Someone behind her, probably Elain, was calling her name. But she could barely hear it, the sound of her raged heart roaring in her ears. 

***

Walking away from her sisters and their friends didn't make her feel sad, nor enraged. Every step she took was a little piece of her heart lost, the only part of her that still cared. 

She didn't turn back. Not after she slammed the door, not after a few tears fell down her cheeks. 

Her head was spinning so fast she thought she could faint. Walking away from her sisters almost felt like being drunk. Both of them made her want to throw up. 

When she first heard his voice calling her, she thought she had imagined it. 

Cassian's voice was soft in her dreams. Like when he had spoken to her on the battlefield. 

A soft whisper, a broken prayer. There was nothing sweet in the way he roared her name, although his silhouette, bathed in the moon, almost looked angelic. 

But Nesta knew better. 

Looking at him hurt. 

She had tried so many times to ignore her feelings, but they kept coming to the surface stronger than before, suffocating her. 

"What do you want?" she didn't even try to keep her annoyance out of her voice. Why didn't he leave her alone? 

He was staring at her, his eyes wide, his breathe heavy. 

Had he ran to reach her? Was he tired? 

_ It's none of your business, Nesta.  _

"Why are you leaving?" he asked, his voice hard. Oh, how ready he was to judge her. It had been like this at the beginning, a series of judging and fights and teasing. 

But then he had noticed her, he had listened to what she said. He had cared. 

Or so she liked to think. 

Maybe he had only been nice. Maybe he only wanted to take her to bed and use her for his own pleasure, like every other man she had met. 

"I didn't want to be there anymore" she replied, giving him an honest reason. 

"Your sisters wanted you to be there" 

"Well, I'm really sorry about that, but you could tell them-" 

"Do you even care?" he interrupted her. She dedicated him only a short glance before turning away from him. 

Did she care? Was he even asking? 

Everybody loved to assume how cold-hearted she was. 

That was what she was known for: cold, insensitive, mean. 

She had heard those words for her whole life. Even her sisters thought it about her. Her parents did. 

Then why did it hurt so much when he accused her like that? 

Before she could walk away from him, he grasped her arm. 

"What is wrong with you?" 

It wasn't tiredness that made his eyes so wide and red, or his shoulders tremble. It was anger. 

He was mad at her. 

"What is wrong with you, Nesta?" 

The way he said her name had always sounded odd to her. It was never said in the same tone, but it changed time after time. She had heard him calling her with delight, with a mocking tone, with a wary voice. He had whispered it to her like it was a secret or a confession. 

But this time, her name came out roaring. Nesta could read all the emotions written on his face: concern, curiosity, anger, disappointment. 

The last one probably hurt the most, but it was also the one she had expected not only from him, but from everyone. 

"You want to know what is wrong with me?" she murmured the words, too tired to scream and shout. 

Cassian nodded, his eyes still on hers. He was looking for something. A fire, a flame, something she couldn't give to him, not anymore. 

"I am dead, Cassian" she said, toneless. "I died on that battlefield, trying to protect you" 

She saw the hurt her words caused on him, the expression on his face switching from worry to sadness. Guilt. 

She knew the emotion very well. 

"My father died for us. For me." she kept talking. "But I am an ungrateful person, apparently" a humorless laugh came from her lips "because I don't want the gift he sacrificed for. I don't want to live. I don't think I am able to, at this point". 

"Nesta-" 

"Don't" stopped him, not wanting to interrupt the flow of her words. She knew this was the only chance she got to let him hear what she had to say. "Do you remember what you said that day?" 

He nodded again, his eyes closed. He couldn't bare to look at what she had become, she knew it. Maybe he blamed himself, maybe her sisters did. Feyre did. The always-so-perfect Feyre. She remembered her kind eyes filled with worry everytime she found Nesta passed out on her bed after another night spent drowning in alcohol. 

"You said you didn't have any regret." she reminded him "Well, I have. I have so many regrets. I keep ruining everything good I have in my life. Because I can't stand to have that, I can't stand to be happy." 

He opened his eyes again. 

"You know what they say about me?" she pointed her fingers at the house behind him, where she could almost see the silhouette of his friends laughing again. "They say I don't feel anything. That I don't care" her voice broke on that last word. A tear began falling down her cheek. 

She hated herself for crying.

She hated herself for throwing all these feelings at him. 

And yet, she couldn't stop. A selfish feeling had possessed her, and all she could do was give up on the need of letting her emotions have the best of her. Just once. 

"Cassian" she started again "I feel- I feel too much. I feel love and hate and rage and worry and-" she took a breathe "It's consuming me." 

She closed her eyes. It was done. She had said what she had to. She wasn't expecting something from him. Her confession wasn't supposed to be a cry for help. It was a warning. 

She freed her arm from his grasp. Her skin felt inmediately cold after it lost his warm touch. 

"Stay away from me" her tone had become cold once again. 

Cassian took a step back, his eyes widened once more. He looked like she had punched him with her iced tone. She thought he shouldn't look so surprised. 

Coldness was what he was used to. It was her own weapon against the fury of the world. Against the fire she herself possessed inside of her. 

Did he forget? 

"If you ever cared about me" she said again, a little surprised at how her voice didn't betray her "stay away from me."

She didn't wait for his answer, but before she turned away she saw. Something had broken inside of him. His eyes, always warm and mocking, shined in a desperate way. Maybe he was disappointed. Maybe he grieved for the girl she once was. 

But that was exactly the reason why she walked away from him.

She couldn't bear to hurt him again. Even though a part of her needed him to go after her, she knew that letting her go would have pained him less. 

How could they have a future together when all she had to offer was frozen feelings and death? How could she love him when she couldn't stand to look at herself? And how could she let him love her, when her soul would be a weight upon his shoulders, suffocating the life he so brightly had. 

When she opened the door of her apartment, a hand paused on her chest, as if wanting to stop the ache that was consuming her whole being. 

But she couldn't. 

All she could do was repeating to herself over and over again, "It is for the best". 

  
  
  
  



End file.
